All the Wrong People
by Evie.Calyx
Summary: Ruth attends her first office Christmas party at her new job. Set late season 2. Ruth drinks too much and flirts with all the wrong people. H/R.
1. Chapter 1

Ruth stood clutching her drink as she timidly scanned the crowd for a familiar face. This was her first office Christmas party at her new job and she felt awfully awkward- more so then usual, even. The George had been booked out for all the office staff at Thames House and Ruth couldn't spot anyone she knew from Section D. And then she saw Harry.

Her new boss, who, frankly she found quite intimidating, was sitting in a booth with another man around his age drinking whiskey. Harry caught her eye and nodded for her to join him. Ruth really didn't know whether she should be relieved or alarmed.

Harry had found himself caught drinking with Oliver Mace, of all people, and seized the chance to extract himself when he saw Ruth scanning the crowd timidly. Sweet Ruth Evershed, who was quite a bit more totted up then he'd ever seen her in the office, Harry thought to himself. He ran his eyes over her subtly. She was wearing an aubergine dress that wrapped around her slim body, clinging to, he noted, well-proportioned curves. The neck was cut in a deep vee, exposing the tops of her full breasts, which he speculated must be being pushed up tantalisingly by some wondrous female contraption. And although the length of the dress cut her demurely at her knee, he'd never seen her legs that exposed before, either. Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling himself swell slightly with arousal. If only she dressed like that everyday, he smirked, being stuck behind a desk for a living would be a lot more fun.

Beside him, Oliver Mace's eyes flicked slyly between Harry and the woman.

Ruth smiled nervously as she walked over, feeling eyes on her. He's rather unfeasibly gorgeous tonight, she thinks, with his dress shirt rolled up around strongly muscled forearms, and open around his thick neck. But wait- what was he smirking at?

"Ruth," Harry exclaimed charmingly, "Glad you can join us."

"Merry Christmas, Harry," Ruth shyly returned, taking her seat next to him.

"How are you finding the party?"

"Oh, it's lovely to see The George decked out all Christmassy. I like all the tinsel. And I must say, I also don't mind the open bar," Ruth joked, then almost immediately felt gauche. She took a deep swig of said drink to compensate.

But she was relieved to find Harry's companion answered her good-naturedly. "More than we mere civil servants should get used to, I say."

"Ruth, this is Oliver Mace, Chairman of the JIC, deigning to join us from Whitehall," Harry swept in smoothly. "Oliver, this is Ruth Evershed, my new star analyst. I've just made her transfer from GCHQ permanent, actually."

"Well congratulations are in order then, Miss Evershed. I dare say you are rather glad to be out of Cheltenham, then?"

"Very, MI5 is rather more… exciting," Ruth smiled bashfully.

"And I imagine a beautiful woman such as yourself would be entirely wasted on those swotty little bookworms, no?"

"Oh. Don't be silly…" Ruth replied faintly, uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation.

"Come on. I bet those _boys_ didn't know what to do with you, did they?" Mace carried on.

"Certainly didn't appreciate you enough, did they Ruth?" Harry interjected. "Otherwise they wouldn't have let me poach you for Section D. Ruth was, Oliver, rather crucial to us on the Major Curtis case."

"As yes, the Major Curtis case. Terrible bit of business that was. What is the country coming to, him, when our own military is threatening us with nuclear annihilation?" Mace took up Harry's line of questioning.

Ruth flashed Harry a quick smile of thanks for steering the conversation back to safer ground. As they continued to debate the case, Ruth found herself studying Harry's profile. His was a strong face, rugged with wear, but not an unkind face, intimidating though he may be. There was something rather gentle, really, in his features- perhaps in the pout of his full lips, and in the warm twinkle of his eyes. Yes, Harry had intimidated her, but not in the same way Mace did. From her first day in the office, when she had barged into the meeting feeling like an intruder, and a clumsy one at that, Harry had been kind.

Harry lifted his whisky to his lips and sipped sensuously. Ruth unconsciously mirrored his actions, finishing her wine. She found herself staring at his hands wrapped around the glass- they were as rugged as his face, and with fingers long and deliciously thick. Ruth found herself with the rather vivid image of their large roughness cupping her face…

"Can I get you another drink, Ruth?" Harry's purr interrupted. "Another white wine, was it? And more whiskey for you and I, Oliver, I should think."

Ruth shuffled over to allow Harry to exit the booth. She wasn't allowed to stay there, however, as Mace patted the seat next to him invitingly.

"So, Sir, why did you decide to come tonight? I mean, I wouldn't have thought you'd have been interested in our office party. Not that… I mean… I'm not suggesting you don't have a hands on role directing us-"

"No offence taken, Ruth," Mace smiled kindly. "Confidentially, I don't _have_ to go to these staff things. But, well, there's something in the lose inhibitions of a gathering of inebriated spies together, that makes it a pretty unparalleled opportunity to gather intelligence about the department. Not to mention prime blackmail material. And I never mind a good piss up with old Harry."

"Old Harry? Isn't he around your age, Sir?" Ruth giggled.

"Enough of that, Miss Evershed. I don't need pretty young things like you reminding me of my years," Mace leered.

Ruth continued to giggle obliging, but a ring of false cheered now entered her voice.

Walking back from the bar with their drinks Harry was annoyed to hear Mace had made Ruth giggle. She was sitting very close to him. Harry told himself the annoyance was because he had thought she was much too clever to fall for the charm of a sleazebag like Mace. Yes, the annoyance was because he had misjudged her intelligence, and certainly not because of the attention she had chosen to eschew from Harry, True, he may admire her figure in a tight dress, and enjoy flustering her when she bumbles into his office unannounced, but that is nothing more than he would enjoy dallying with any pretty woman in his day-to-day life.

Nonetheless, Harry was sure to imbue more than a little flair of the debonair into his saunter when he placed the drink in front of Ruth.

Harry slid into the booth, squeezing Ruth's small frame between his and Mace's larger ones.

"Any plans for Christmas Day, Ruth?" Harry retook her attention with the first question he could think of; only realising when the words were out of his mouth that is wasn't a topic he particularly wanted to talk about.

"Oh," answered Ruth dazedly, gazing up at Harry, "Just family stuff as I always do. I'll have to drive back to my mother's in Cheltenham on Christmas Eve. What about you two?"

"Oh, much the same. Actually, my son and his wife will be bringing their newborn to Christmas this year. My first grandchild, a strapping young boy to carry on the old family name," Mace answered proudly.

"That's lovely," Ruth smiled. "Have you got a photo?"

Harry watched as Mace pulled a photo of his son and grandson out of his wallet and Ruth cooed sweetly over it.

"He's gorgeous. Your son must be so pleased. And you, Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Any plans for Christmas?"

"Ah. Well, I was planning on having the girlfriend round mind for a nice roast dinner."

"Sounds lovely, too. But I wouldn't have picked you as a chef, Harry?" Ruth answered easily.

"And why exactly do you think I couldn't manage a simple roast dinner, Ruth? I mean," he continued, patting his stomach, "Does it look to you like I don't enjoy my food?"

Ruth lips curved coyly, "I won't comment. But…?"

"No, you're quite right too, I don't cook. Tasha offered to commandeer my kitchen."

"Mmm, as I thought," Ruth replied knowingly.

Inside, however, she was filled with a slight melancholia at the knowledge that Harry was seeing someone. Of course he would be, and of course even if he wasn't he'd never be interested in someone like her… Not that she would be interested in someone like him, either.

Strangely enough, Harry seemed suddenly melancholic, too, although why the idea of having his girlfriend round for dinner would upset him was beyond her. Ruth wondered what a woman named Tasha would look like. Would she be very pretty and entirely too young for him?

Ruth took a swift gulp of her drink. She felt it going to her head. Between work, going home to change, and the Christmas party, she hadn't had any time for dinner, and it was affecting her.

"How is the wine, Ruth?" asked Mace.

"Oh, it's very nice, Sir."

"You look like you're enjoying it."

"Oh?"

"Yes. You're cheeks, they're rather charmingly flushed. Oh and Ruth? It's Oliver, please," Mace said slickly, punctuating his plea with a squeeze of her leg.

"Of course, Oliver."

Ruth didn't know where to look. Her gaze fell to her hands, twisting furiously in her lap. Mace found Harry glaring across at him rather savagely. He smirked back at Harry, but removed his hand.

"Oh, look… it's Malcolm!" Ruth exclaimed suddenly.

"Hmm?" asked Harry.

"Harry, I must go say hello to Malcolm. He's just arrived, oh, and he's standing there all by himself. Excuse me, please, Harry. O-O-Oliver."

Ruth shot up tipsily and attempted to climb across Harry and out of the booth, but she overbalanced and landed clumsily in his lap instead.

"Oh god, Harry…" Ruth apologised.

Harry's round face was turning an alarming shade of red as Ruth wiggled.

"I'm so clumsy."

"Nonsense," Harry grunted, lifting her up.

Mace pointedly said nothing until Ruth was out of earshot. Then he slapped Harry on the back and chuckled heartily.

"Not bad, old man!"

Harry's glare was murderous.


	2. Chapter 2

Ruth righted herself and made a beeline towards Malcolm, who, unfortunately, had seen the whole tripping-onto-Harry's-lap-thing.

"Hello, Malcolm," she sighed.

"Er, Ruth," Malcolm replied. "Dare I ask?"

"Oh God. It's those bloody booths. Is he still looking?"

"Ah… no, he's talking to Oliver Mace."

"How does he look?"

"Look?"

"Yeah. Does he look, I dunno, like he's laughing or something?"

"No, he just looks… actually, he looks rather angry about something," replied a bemused Malcolm.

"Oh, no. I'm going to get another drink. Malcolm?" said Ruth despondently.

"Now, just hold on a minute," soothed Malcolm as he followed Ruth towards the bar. "I know Harry quite well, you remember, and I don't think he would be angry at you. He's probably angry at having to make small talk with Mace. Harry can't stand him, you know."

"Really? Why doesn't _Harry_ like him?"

"I suspect he's too much of a political animal for Harry."

"Oh. I just thought he was just a creep," Ruth smiled conspiratorially up at Malcolm.

"Hush. These walls have ears, you know Ruth. He is our boss, really," Malcolm chided good-naturedly, before breaking into a whisper. "Although, I've half a mind to agree with you. I've heard things…"

Malcolm was interrupted by his mobile ringing.

"Hello? Yes, I'm here with Ruth. Okay. Okay. We'll meet you there," Malcolm spoke into the phone, then turned to Ruth and explained. "That was Colin. He says he's just arrived and to meet him in the hallway."

"Oh, good. I'm glad more people from Section D are coming," Ruth said as they strode out of the main room of the pub. "I was quite alone when I got here. Awful high school flashbacks."

"Indeed. You think you're done with that sort of thing, and then..."

Malcolm and Ruth waited in the hallway and made small talk, which was separated from the main room by a thin wicker wall. On the other side to where they were standing was the booth seating where Ruth had sat with Harry and Oliver Mace.

After Ruth's little trip, Harry had found himself unwilling to move from the protection of the table, and thus had been caught still talking with Mace. Thankfully, however, Mace was yet to continue his interrogation of Harry about Ruth. Mace was a political creature, always looking to have something on everyone. Not that Harry didn't do the same. But Harry suspected Mace had noticed his reaction to Ruth falling onto his lap, and was filing it away for later use.

"Is Ruth Evershed seeing anyone?" Mace asked casually.

"I really wouldn't know," Harry replied coolly. The interrogation had begun.

"You should know. Has she been a bad girl, has she? Not handing in those S24 forms when she should?"

"Of course not," Harry bristled.

"Then you should know. Has she a current S24 on file?"

"No," Harry gritted out.

"Excellent. I might buy her another drink, then," Mace smiled.

"_You're_ going to buy her a _drink_, Oliver? Christ, I thought you were just being your usual _enchanting_ self. You're not actually interested in her, are you?" Harry said feigning indifference and attempting to turn the conversation back around to incriminate Mace.

"Well why not? She's rather pretty, don't you think?"

"Ruth?"

"Yes, why not?"

"She's just not really… _glamorous_, is she? Not the kind of woman you usually go for," Harry spat with distaste.

"Modest. Sweet," Mace countered.

"All still synonyms for _plain_."

"You must be blind," Mace raised his eyebrows pointedly, intimating that Harry knew exactly what he was talking about.

But Ruth did not pick up on this double meaning of Harry and Mace's conversation from her listening point behind the thin wicker wall. She, and Malcolm, had heard the whole thing. Malcolm stood wide-eyed, wanting to make them stop, unsure of how to. Ruth's eyes stung with unshed tears. She begged herself not to make a scene. It wasn't that she'd ever thought Harry would have been interested in her. No, of course not. But it still hurt to hear her boss, who she really rather respected, and, truthfully, quite fancied, express his disgust at the thought that anyone would ever want her.

"Um, excuse me… I have to… b-bathroom," Ruth stuttered out.

"Wait…." Malcolm called as she ran, but she did not heed him.

Colin chose that moment to arrive.

"Merry Christmas, buddy. Was that Ruth running off just then?" Colin asked cheerfully.

Malcolm just shook his head impotently.

"Come on Colin. Let's go get a drink and say hello to Harry."

Harry was still inwardly fuming from Mace's inferences. He strummed his fingers against the table furiously.

"So what kind of woman is this _Tasha_, to stop you looking around the office for another bit on the side?"

"She's on file. Why don't you look her up if you're wondering what motivates one to be faithful? I imagine Mrs Mace might appreciate it." Harry replied drolly.

"Now, now Harry. Speaking of those who shouldn't cast stones. You always used to have an office girl on the go in the good old days, wife be damned," Mace smirked.

"I've changed."

"Come on, then, tell me about this woman of yours then."

"Ah, Malcolm, Colin," Harry bellowed enthusiastically. "What a pleasure to see you. You remember Oliver Mace?"

Meanwhile Ruth was standing looking at herself in the mirror of a posh bathroom. Thankfully it was empty. She busied herself with reapplying her makeup and fixing her hair while inwardly she tried to calm herself. It didn't help that she was a little light-headed from the alcohol earlier still.

There was nothing to it. She'd have to go back out there and pretend she hadn't heard anything. He was her boss, after all, and it wouldn't do to be awkward around him. She only hoped Malcolm wouldn't say anything to anyone, especially Harry. But Malcolm didn't seem like a gossip, and he wasn't the sort of bloke who engaged in locker room talk about his female colleagues, anyway. Not like Harry, apparently.

_Oh, _Harry. Well, it was for the best. Now she knew what he really thought of her, she wouldn't waste anymore time fantasying about him, at least. She wouldn't get all flustered when he teased her in the office, knowing there was nothing about it. He obviously found the idea laughable.

And what Oliver Mace had said was flattering, really. Perhaps she was wrong about him. Harry was the one playing with her after all, not Oliver. He was obviously a powerful and intelligent man, well dressed and well spoken. Attractive enough for her; she herself was nothing special after all. She was getting older, and she had spent entirely too much time wishing for things that would never happen, men who would never be interested. Wasting her time on dreams when she could have something real- an intelligent and successful man who thought she was pretty asking her for a drink. Well, what was wrong with that? One couldn't be held by dreams.

Yes, she thought. If Oliver Mace asked her for a drink, she would say yes.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Thank you for all the reviews. I have really enjoyed reading them. Please enjoy an extra long chapter today as thanks!**_

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Ruth bravely re-entered the room. Glancing quickly towards Harry's booth she saw that he and Mace had been joined by Malcolm and Colin. Harry tried to catch her eye again but failed as Ruth taciturnly snubbed him, lowering her gaze to the floor and instead making a beeline to the bar. There she stood, back to the men, trying to appear upright and aloof.

A hand brushed her lower back. She turned.

"Ruth. I thought we'd lost you," said Oliver Mace.

"Not at all," Ruth smiled cheerfully.

"Good, good. Can I get you a drink?"

"Yes. Please," Ruth said decisively.

Mace signalled to the barman and leant one hand on the bar as he waited, in a carefully crafted attempt to affect Ruth with the largeness of his frame.

Ruth fidgeted, hand in hand. Things had gotten past the place she had planned in her head- saying yes to Oliver's offer- and then realised she had nothing to say, nothing to impress him with, as was usual.

"You look rather pretty, you know, with your hair like that."

"Oh, well. You haven't seen my hair any other way, have you?" Ruth bumbled.

"Oh, drivel. And that dress…" Mace exhaled as he swept his gaze up and down her body.

"It's old," Ruth shrugged vigorously.

Mace's face crinkled up in confusion. He realised he would have to change tactics with this woman.

"Are you ambitious, Ruth?"

"Ambitious?"

"Yes. Where do you see your career going?"

"Well," bubbled Ruth eagerly, "I mean, it's always been my ambition to cross over to Five. But Harry's just made my secondment permanent, as he said, so I'm not really thinking about much beyond settling in to this role. I'm Senior Analyst here now, in the Counter-Terrorism Division, and well, there's really not much room to move up from that, is there? I mean, you don't often see a desk spook sitting in Harry's position, do you?"

"On the contrary. I started my career as a desk spook actually, before sitting in the Section Head seat for 6's Eastern Europe division."

"Did you indeed?"

"Listen. Why don't we grab a bottle of champagne, take a seat over there, and discuss your future, hmm?"

"Alright," Ruth replied appreciatively.

She watched as Oliver ordered a ridiculously expensive vintage with ease. Impressed, Ruth allowed herself to be lead with one hand across her back to a dark booth in the corner of the room.

Harry had scowled as he watched Mace stagger up to Ruth at the bar. When he saw Mace lead her across the room with his hand on the small of her back he had slammed his whisky down on the table in fury.

Though they were in a dark corner booth, Harry could see perfectly as Mace popped open what appeared to be a very expensive bottle of wine with great fanfare. His theatrical flare had clearly amused Ruth too, who was giggling girlishly at her suitor.

This surveillance was only interrupted by the arrival of Danny and Zoe. Harry merely grunted hello.

"Not enjoying the party, Harry?" Danny mused.

"Mind your own business, Mr. Hunter."

Danny's eyes widened. Back apparently was the man who shouted his way around the office, bellowing at Danny for every little thing. Like walking into room's unannounced. Or bank fraud.

Harry suddenly realised how transparent he had been. He only hoped Malcolm and Colin wouldn't read anything into it. Fine behaviour for an experienced spy. He would just have to stop watching her lest his entire staff realise he had been lusting after a junior colleague.

Good and well. But he would need another drink.

"Another round on me, then?"

Across the room Ruth was chastising herself. How could she have been so wrong about Oliver? When he was being so perfectly kind, enquiring about her career, and offering her advice with the considerable benefit of his vast experience?

"Truly, Ruth. I believe the only logical step further up the old ladder for someone of your abilities would actually be a hop over to the Home Office."

"But I do like the work I do in Section D. You know, being able to directly help people, being able to… see the impact of my work."

"Working for the Home Office would be considerably superior pay and prestige, and your analysis would be directly affecting government policy. Impacting the whole country, even the whole world perhaps, depending on whom you were working under. "

"Right," Ruth replied, a little overwhelmed.

Mace refilled her glass before grasping her small hand between his.

"Now Ruth. If you ever need an in at the Home Office, you need only give me the word. I'm on first name basis with all the great power players of this government, and I'd be only too happy to help a friend."

"God, that'd be… Are you sure, Oliver?" Ruth breathed, eyes large.

"Of course, my dear. You mustn't be afraid to ask," he replied with a squeeze.

Ruth looked down shyly, then back up at Oliver, and smiled wide and genuine.

"Now," commanded Mace, "Why don't you help me finish this champagne?"

"Oh," Ruth said, rubbing her neck, "I really shouldn't have any more to drink. I'm already a little tipsy…"

"Now you are being rude. First you coerce me into buying this disgracefully expensive vintage and now you tell me you won't even drink it? And I suppose you are running off to meet some handsome young paramour of yours for a little late night rendezvous?"

"No! Oliver…"

"You, Ruth, are going to damn well sit there and drink it if I have to force it down your throat myself," Mace said, smiling to let her know he was teasing.

"Well, you won't have to do that," Ruth recovered, flirting back, "I only meant that I shouldn't."

"Not that you won't?"

"Not that I won't," Ruth echoed coyly as she lifted her glass to her lips. In a daring move, she met his gaze as she seductively downed the glass. Well, in for a penny…

Mace watched with hooded eyes before bursting into deep-bellied laughter.

"I say, Miss Evershed, that's more the spirit!"

"Oh!" Ruth exclaimed flirtatiously, "Ooh, Oliver! Santa hats! Wait here."

Across the room, Harry hadn't quite made good on his promise to stop watching Ruth and that slimy bastard. While he couldn't make out the conversation, he was quite aware what flirting looked like. Silly woman, he swore to himself. And he had introduced them and all. Stupid man.

"Harry?" asked Danny.

"Yes?"

"Is that Ruth putting a party hat on the Chairman of the JIC?"

"Yes. She seems rather taken with him," Harry answered neutrally.

"She seems rather drunk," countered Malcolm.

"Brave, at any rate. Wouldn't catch me joking around with that guy. He'd take one thing the wrong way and send you off to Siberia," mused Danny.

"Yes, but you're not exactly his type, now are you, Danny?" teased Zoe.

Several glasses later, Ruth looked up dazedly to find Oliver's lips on hers. She tried to react but found her senses slowed by the alcohol. Just as Ruth tried awkwardly to kiss him back, Mace slide his tongue into her mouth and began thrusting it in and out in a crude mimicry of what he wanted. Lips smothering hers, hands running all over her waist and back, he overwhelmed her. When Mace slide his hand down to squeeze her bottom, Ruth was ready to push him off her, but before she could take control of her arms his hand had returned to her back, and he had eased off the kiss.

Ruth felt uncomfortable but didn't want to tell him to stop in case he thought she wasn't interested. And she was interested. She just wished men would go a little slower, sometimes. But she told herself it was silly to wish about something that just couldn't be.

"You look beautiful when you've been thoroughly kissed," Oliver murmured before leaning in to kiss her again. This time he went further again, sliding one hand under her dress to squeeze her thigh.

Harry glowered at them. When he saw Mace slide his hand up Ruth's leg, Harry fisted his right hand against his thigh, enraged.

"'Lo all! Sorry I'm so late," Sam sang out as she arrived. "Gosh, whose that Ruth's with? Isn't he a bit old for her?"

Harry flushed pink at the mention of Mace's age. Mace was Harry's age. And here he was, hankering uselessly after the same young woman.

"That's Oliver Mace, Chairman of the JIC," Zoe raised her eyebrows conspiratorially.

"That's one way to get a promotion," gossiped Sam.

"Harry, a word," commanded Malcolm angrily.

Harry looked surprised at the unusual vehemence in Malcolm's voice.

"Not now, Malcolm."

He was far to busy, he thought to himself.

"Oliver… Oliver, stop," Ruth implored.

"No," Mace murmured against her neck, his voice hoarse with lust and muffled by his kisses.

"Oliver, really. It's late, I should go."

Oliver sighed and sat back.

"Well, allow me to give you a lift at least."

"Oh, that's very kind but I'm perfectly fine on the bus," Ruth refused politely.

"Nonsense. You're being silly again. It's not safe for a woman at this time of night," Mace wheedled.

"I catch the bus at this time of night all the time."

"Ruth. Please allow me to escort you home. It is merely a lift, you know? Nothing more," Oliver raised his eyebrows.

Ruth flushed that Oliver had guessed her thoughts.

"Well, alright, as long as it's just a lift, then thankyou, Oliver, I will."

Harry watched as Mace propped up a stumbling Ruth by the waist, leading her across the room in full view of the department towards the exit of the pub. Behind Ruth's back, Mace waved a quick goodbye to Harry, raising his eyebrows slightly and smugly smirking. 'I'm going to bed her,' his eyes said.

Harry turned around and found his whole team watching the scene as well. They goggled at the sight of quiet Ruth going home with a man she had just met, and her superior officer no less. All except Malcolm.

"She can barely stand, Harry," Malcolm ground out.

"Excuse me," Harry said standing quietly, not wanting to draw attention to his actions.

He moved to follow Ruth and Mace, with a mind to separate the two. He was well aware he was possibly overstepping the bounds of the employer-employee relationship, but, well, watching Ruth stagger out drunkenly had just confirmed she was way too intoxicated to be going home with anyone, let alone Oliver Mace. Harry only hoped Ruth would see things the same way, and not be angry the next morning that he had interfered with a potential relationship that she was interested in. But no, if there was one thing Harry knew, it was people. He made his career out of exploiting peoples weaknesses. He would wager sweet, gentle Ruth would not be the type of woman to sleep her way to the top.

Harry walked out onto the street at the front of the pub but could not see them. He turned right, trying the taxi ranks- hopefully Mace wouldn't try driving home on that much whisky. But they were not there either. Surely they couldn't have gotten away so quickly?

No. Harry turned back towards the pub then started running back in the other direction, towards the Thames House parking lot. But Mace and Ruth could not be seen heading that way either.

Harry ran his hands through his short hair in frustration. Where could she be? Mace couldn't be allowed alone with her.

Then he realised there was a back entrance to The George, which certain spooks were known to use when they didn't want to be caught by the CCTV cameras out on the main road. Harry took off back into the pub, through the back door, and down the concrete steps into the dirty alleyway.

What he heard made his blood run cold.

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_**Please review! I would love to hear which bits you enjoyed so I can include more of the same in the next chapter. Thank you so much!**_


	4. Chapter 4

"Where's your car, Oliver?" Ruth slurred absentmindedly as Mace led her through the back of The George and out an exit she hadn't realised existed.

"Just one more kiss," Mace implored as he pressed her into the brick wall of the deserted alleyway.

"No, Oliver," Ruth chastised amiably, "You said you'd take me home."

"One more. I'm mad about you," he said cupping her right cheek and gazing deeply into her eyes.

"…Alright," she sighed woozily.

Mace placed a gentle kiss on her lips. Ruth relaxed into it before she felt his hand slide up to cup her breast outside her dress.

"Get off me!" she shrieked, pushing him back clumsily.

The surprise of the rebuff caught Mace off guard and he stumbled back, tripping over his feet embarrassingly. This perceived slight incensed him.

"You frigid bitch," Mace spat before slapping her hard on the cheek he had just moments before cupped tenderly.

Harry heard the shriek reverberate around the alleyway. Adrenaline surged through him as he spun wildly around, searching the alleyway for them. He saw Ruth against the dirty red brick wall. Harry quickly assessed the situation, his pulse thundering through his ears. Mace was advancing on her, spitting out an insult, then clouting her across the face. Harry sprinted towards them, grabbed Mace by the scruff of the neck, and flung him off her.

"Enough," Harry ground out, stranding aggressively over Mace where he was prone on the cobblestones, "Enough."

"Bugger off Harry, I'm busy," Mace answered, winded, but unafraid despite Harry's superior display of strength.

Harry booted Mace in the stomach in answer to the crude remark, and then swung to kick him again.

Ruth had watched, holding her injured cheek, too shocked to move. She had felt dazed first by Mace's unexpected assault and then by Harry's sudden appearance. But at this display of violence Ruth sprung into action.

"Harry, stop. It's okay. I'm okay, really," she soothed.

Harry glanced back at her, breathed in heavily, and then returned his gaze to Mace.

"No, it's bloody not okay!" Harry bellowed, and kicked Mace again.

Mace groaned piteously.

"Stop! Stop it! Harry!" Ruth cried.

Harry stopped, realising he was getting out of hand.

"See Harry, she does want me, after all," Mace coughed.

Harry roared in response, but remembered himself. He wanted to thrash the life out of Mace for continuing with that last comment but realised that Ruth was watching, kind, gentle Ruth, who would always be less than impressed by violence, especially in her name. Never mind. Although Harry was no stranger to violence, he had survived this long in the service using a stronger weapon.

Mace measured Harry up.

"Now, Harry," he began idly, "Have you quite forgotten who I am? You've got quite a nerve, touching me. I'll see you regret it. I'm going to rather enjoy ruining your career, and, hell, your pretty office girl's, too. "

"No, I don't think you will, actually," Harry replied, equally as calm.

He grabbed Mace by the collar again and forced him to his feet, "Do you know why I think that, Oliver?"

Harry spun Mace around and directed his gaze back towards the pub.

"Do you see that, Oliver? It has been brought to my attention, you know, that certain high-up spooks have been using this alleyway to conduct some, shall we say, under-the-table business. I thought it might have been a good idea to install the odd CCTV camera out here, just to keep an eye on things. Turns out my idea has just paid off."

Mace's eyes widened in awareness.

"You know, you should really check for surveillance every time, my friend. An old hat like you should know better. You won't be doing anything to me, or to Ruth, because as soon as you do, a copy of that tape goes straight to the MET," Harry hissed dangerously.

"And what are the pigs going to do, hmm?" Mace laughed uncertainly.

"Alright," Harry reconsidered, "Perhaps you'd prefer me to send this to your wife, then. Rumours are, she's been threatening to leave you. I don't think watching you assault a defenceless young woman will go down well with your lovely family, will it? And don't worry, I'll make sure your daughter-in-law refuses access to your new grandson, too."

"You're married," Ruth gasped, but Mace ignored her.

Mace had been momentarily silenced.

Harry knew he had Mace over a barrel.

"Let's go, Ruth," he said, gently taking her arm and leading her out of the alleyway. "I'll take you home."

"O-Okay," Ruth whispered, unable to stop looking at Mace.

"Oh, here we bloody go!" Mace shouted at their retreating figures, "The real reason why Harry bloody Pearce appears. You do know your knight in shining armour wants you, don't you Ruth? Why do you think he didn't stop me sooner?"

"Ignore him," Harry said to Ruth. But Ruth couldn't.

"That's right. He's been sitting there, salivating at your tits from across the room all night, love! Don't think you're going to end the night without losing your knickers, whore!"

Ruth shakily tried to examine Harry's expression, but he wouldn't meet her eyes. Instead, Harry strode steadily on.

Still muddled, Ruth allowed Harry to lead her out towards the main road. Then she stopped him.

"Harry… I don't… I don't want…" Ruth said nervously.

Harry realised what she meant. He couldn't blame her for questioning his actions, really, after what Mace had just said. And done.

"Ruth," Harry entreated, softening his expression, "You need someone right now. It's just a lift home, from a friend. I promise you are safe with me."

"Yes. Yes, well that's what he said, too," Ruth nodded vigorously, and took off.

"Ruth!" Harry yelled, chasing after her. "Ruth, stop. I understand… but… look, I'm calling my driver. He'll be there the whole time with us, okay?"

"Oh," Ruth stopped, noticing the phone. Her arms were wrapped around herself in comfort. "Okay. Okay… that's… Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. After what just…"

"No, I am. I know you wouldn't… I don't know why he… Mace, said that," Ruth said, remembering what Harry had said about the idea of being with her.

"Is your cheek alright?" Harry asked tenderly.

"Oh. Yeah."

"Let me see," he whispered softly, "Turn your face to the light."

Ruth obeyed. She felt Harry's, eyes sliding over her, assessing her, making her skin prickle. Their gaze then caught; Harry's kind, intelligent brown eyes met Ruth's large, frightened blue-green ones. Harry's breath caught in his chest to see how those eyes gleamed under the streetlight. He wanted to sweep her small figure into his arms and protect her from the world. Irrational, he thought to himself. Stupidly romantic, utterly unfounded…

"I don't think it'll bruise," Harry spoke instead. "Your lip is bleeding a little, though. Let me."

Ruth nodded her consent and Harry gently wiped her lip with his shirtsleeve. Vivid red blood stained pristine white.

"I've wrecked your shirt, now…"

The moment was broken by Harry's car pulling up beside them, with the driver honking the horn loudly.

Harry opened the door for her. Ruth sat in silence, running over the night in her mind, as Harry gave the driver her address and the car pulled smoothly away from the curve. She was finding her increasing sobriety unhappy.

Ruth leant against the cold window, unable to look at Harry and embarrassed beyond belief to think of his driver watching at her in the rear view mirror. She started sobbing quietly.

"Ruth… Ruth… shhh…" Harry soothed.

Ruth kept sobbing. Harry had never had any idea how to handle women crying. Dealing with emotions… was just not his area of expertise, ask anyone. He excelled in battle; enjoyed outsmarting and overcoming… but now they had moved past the point where Harry felt himself to be useful.

But Harry did notice Ruth peeping furtively up at Mike through her tears.

"Mike, the privacy screen please," Harry commanded. "Now, Ruth, he can't see or hear you. Do you want to talk about what happened?"

"Oh, God. What I did tonight…. I can't believe I humiliated myself in front of the whole office with… I was all over him. My boss. My married boss."

"Ruth, don't be silly. That's not what's important," Harry said gruffly.

"Yes, it is. I was awful… I can't believe they all saw… I would have never let him kiss me, I swear, if I had known he was married. Or if I hadn't had so much to drink… I swear, I'm not like that. I can't believe everyone saw me go after a married man. What they must think of me…"

"Never mind what they think of you. I'm just glad you are safe, and so would your colleagues be."

"No, they wouldn't. I feel so… dirty… Everyone in the service knows about his wife, don't they?"

Harry's silence was her answer.

"Oh my God…" Ruth cried brokenly.

"Ruth, don't you think you're focusing on… What about what he… what happened in the alleyway?" Harry stuttered out unsurely, unable to understand why she cared so much about what everyone thought of her, after what Oliver Mace had done.

"God, Harry. You think I haven't been groped before?"

Harry flinched. He couldn't stand to think of her, hurt like that, and more than once, it seemed. Yes, give him a problem to solve, an enemy to overcome, any day, over this.

"Harry," Ruth tried to explain, "I love my job. I _am _my job, I've come to realise… I don't want to do anything to jeopardise it. The gossip, after this… I'll lose all respect anyone ever had for me. I don't know if I can stand it."

"Nobody would judge you for one… _dalliance_, for want of a better word, at a party."

Ruth huffed sarcastically.

"Maybe they wouldn't judge _you_, Harry, but I am not a man, am I? You just wouldn't understand. I've been so stupid all because… I should have listened to myself. You know what I thought when you first introduced me?"

"What was that?"

"I thought… what a creep he was! I couldn't wait to get away from him. Stupid, stupid. And the things he said… God, you do think the tape will be enough, don't you?"

"Mace is a… family man, so to speak. He likes to keep up appearances. If his wife saw that tape… I'm certain he wouldn't risk it."

"Right. Right," Ruth answered, lapsing into thoughtful silence.

"Ruth, about what Mace said… about… me… my intentions-"

Ruth misunderstood what Harry was clumsily trying to say.

"Don't worry, Harry. Of course I know you wouldn't want someone like me," she cut in casuistically, "I know he was just saying it to get to me."

"Ruth, no, you're really very pretty, but…"

"No, no, you don't have to say that," Ruth brushed him off, "I'm not stupid… Well, maybe I am, actually."

"_You_ are not stupid. I blame myself, for not warning you what he was like, for not… acting sooner," Harry caught Ruth's tangent, mistakenly thinking he had answered for Mace's crude suggestions, and that Ruth had no idea he was attracted to her. What was important was that she felt safe around him, because he would never, ever do anything to make her uncomfortable, not like Mace suggested.

"No, Harry. It's me who's to blame. My personal life has always been a mess."

"Ha!" Harry barked out brokenly. "Then you were by no means the only one whose personal life is a mess in that room tonight. Not even the only one in this car."

"I very much doubt that."

"Please. In the service, we all have dreadful personal lives. It's what the job does to you… or perhaps it's the type of person who chooses the job, I don't know."

Ruth laughed wetly.

"I lied tonight," Harry said suddenly.

"What? About what?"

"About my plans for Christmas. With Tasha. Well, we were planning on having Christmas Dinner at my house, that was true. I was looking forward to her cooking for me, actually, it's been so long since… But we broke up two weeks ago. She left me for a man with more money, less baggage, and a knighthood to boot."

"Oh, Harry. I'm sorry," Ruth said softly, forgetting her own pain and reaching out to squeeze his arm in sympathy. This simple gesture made Harry dizzy with the compassion of it.

"You're remarkable, you know? Caring about… _me_… after what Mace did to you."

Ruth merely lost his gaze and scoffed-self effacingly.

"Well, it's nothing to be sorry for, anyway. Tasha and I were never about anything more than sex, you see. Which is all my relationships ever seem to be about," Harry explained pensively.

"Why did you lie about it?"

"I tell myself, it's because if I don't say I have plans for Christmas, the whole office ends up offering to have me added on to theirs out of charity. Oh, you should hear them, Ruth! A sad old charity case, that's my personal life. No woman, my children don't speak to me… So you're hardly the worst, are you?"

"And then there's Mace, with his wife, and grandson," Ruth added knowingly.

"Yes," Harry agreed forlornly.

"I lied, too."

"Oh?" Harry's interest was piqued.

"When you asked, I made it sound like… but really, I don't want to see my family tomorrow. I don't enjoy Christmas. M-my… step-brother and I, we d-don't get along, and it ruins everything for everyone…"

"Ah," said Harry, sympathetically. "Well, I don't know what happened between you two, but I do know you, and I can't imagine that ever being _your _fault, Ruth."

They rested their head's back identically against the leather seats of Harry's car. He found his eyes caught in hers again. And then he was leaning in, drawn to her against his will…

"I heard what you said, about me. To Mace," Ruth confessed quietly.

Harry searched is memory for what exactly that was. He had been trying to warn Mace off her… had he said something about Ruth not being Mace's type? Yes, and he had expressed incredulity at Mace's insinuation that Harry was attracted to Ruth, hadn't he? Christ! What a cad he was. He couldn't remember his exact expression, but he would bet he had said something particularly cruel about the idea, which he would now have to dissuade her of, without letting her know that Mace was right, and he was indeed attracted to her. Had found himself thinking about her increasingly often, even, and since way before Tasha had left, truth be told.

He settled on a half-truth.

"Ruth. I'm truly sorry you heard that. It was completely out of line, for your commanding officer to be commenting on. I only meant… to dissuade Mace from you, in my clumsy way. You may not be the type I usually date, but that's because you are too good for me, not the other way round."

"Oh…" Ruth didn't know whether to believe him. A man would say anything when he was caught out like that, wouldn't he? But still, his words had made her feel warmer.

At that point, the car stopped outside Ruth's home. The driver came around and opened Ruth's door for her. Harry didn't know what to say to her.

"Thank you, Mike, was it?" Ruth asked Harry's driver.

"Yes, Miss."

"And thank you, Harry, for… what you did tonight. I should have said so, earlier."

"Of course," Harry answered, mindful of their audience. "Will you be alright?"

"Yes," Ruth smiled honestly, "Yes I will. Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Ruth."

Harry and Ruth returned to the grid the next morning with a new sense of camaraderie. Although there was gossip, Ruth felt Harry's silent yet solid presence supporting her from across the grid. They would not mention that night to each other, until two months later, when Ruth was watching Tom shoot Harry, and Mace was storming in to take over the department.


	5. Chapter 5

So this was it. Oliver Mace's promised revenge had arrived in the form of a JIC investigation, sanctioned by Downing Street, into the Section's complicity in Tom Quinn's betrayal.

Ruth had truly believed Harry's gambit would work. The tape, that was- they were blackmailing Mace, really, by threatening to reveal to Mace's wife surveillance of his assault. But, apparently that threat only worked when Harry was there to back it up. And he was currently convalescing in hospital, following a shot to the shoulder.

She had done her best to get message to Harry. Told the nurse they were lovers. What was frightening was how easy she found the lie. As much as she tried to tell herself it was because she was a good spook, she knew there was a much more alarming idea that was beginning to take hold of her. When does a crush turn into love?

Can it even be called love, if it can never, ever be reciprocated?

In the meeting room, Mace interrogated Zoe on some trumped up evidence – apparently she had helped Tom obtain the weapon he had used in the assassination. Ruth watched with the rest of the Section.

"Did you know about this?" Sam murmured, arms folded across her chest, as she leaned accusingly towards Ruth.

"What?" said Ruth quietly, hoping against hope that Sam didn't mean what she thought she meant.

Sam scowled.

"Look, we _know_. We all saw you," she said, nodding to Malcolm, Colin and Danny, who had heard her remark. "So there's no point in denying you're sleeping with him."

"I am not," Ruth replied coldly.

"We're all going to lose our jobs over this!" Colin joined in.

"_Colin_," Malcolm reprimanded.

"No, he's right! If she knew-" said Sam, flushing pink.

"You can't expect us to believe he didn't let something slip during pillow talk," said Colin.

"Hey, that's enough, mate," Danny jumped in to Ruth's defence.

"I made a mistake," Ruth said, setting her shoulders back, "I met a man at a party. I thought he was all right, but I soon realised I was wrong. End of story. I knew _nothing_ about this."

Sam scoffed. Colin was silent. Malcolm met Ruth's eyes and gave her a supportive half-smile.

"I've had it," Danny said, losing his temper, "I'm going to see what this is all about."

Ruth watched Danny storm into the meeting room.

Behind her, the pod-doors sounded. It was Harry.

All eyes turned towards him.

"Thank the lord," sighed Malcolm.

His arm was damaged; slung up, but this weakness concealed as much as possible by his jacket. Ruth watched him stride across the room. He was probably in quite a deal of agony; that soon after a life threatening operation, but it was clear to Ruth he was going to pains to hide it. Harry was hobbling, but not as much as one would expect. His face was pasty and white, but he would not let the discomfort show in his expression, which was rigidly set to a firm, powerful glower. He was still dressed in his usual impeccable Saville Row suit and crisp white shirt combination, the only sign that he had lost the use of his right arm was his absence of tie, instead leaving his collar open. She respected his strength in this immensely.

Ruth longed to say something, do something. To hold him, and tell him she was glad he was safe. To let him know he didn't have to be strong in front of her.

But she never, ever could, she told herself.

Harry let his eyes flick quickly over Ruth. She looked shaken. He shuddered to think why. When he received her Morse Code message in his hospital bed, he had been concerned by Mace's plans for the department, yes. But there was a separate dread for Ruth, too. Harry didn't want her to be left alone with Mace again.

No, he would not leave her, and his team, to Oliver Mace's mercy, bullet-wound be damned.

Harry stormed in and took control of the situation. He ordered Mace into his office and interrogated him over his plans. Mace claimed to be acting against corruption in the department, but Harry seriously doubted that was Mace's game.

When Mace left, Harry nearly collapsed in his chair. He breathed heavily, his lungs labouring under the stress of holding himself upright. Of appearing strong in front of Mace. Now he would only allow himself a quick break before he would have to go back out there, pretend to be strong again, and rally the troops.

"Harry," cried Ruth urgently, shooting him a meaningful look.

"_Yes,_ Ruth," Harry answered in annoyance.

They would have to talk about what happened in that alleyway. But not now, where everyone could hear.

They worked long into the night. Harry made the most if it, aware that time was ticking down on their slim window of opportunity to save the department. His contact had explained that the goal of this investigation was to find an excuse to amalgamate the whole of the security service into one state controlled operation. So it was the whole service he was meant to save, then. And then Tom Quinn had turned up alive, claiming he had been set up. And then he had delivered Herman Joyce's body straight to Thames House.

Around midnight, Harry found himself struggling to remain awake through a meeting with Danny, Zoe and Adam. His arm ached terribly, but he could not let his officers see that.

Ruth interrupted them announcing Oliver Mace was on his way up again, before scurrying up. Harry sighed, agonized at having to put on a tough face in front of Mace again when he could barley stand.

"And that's another thing," said Zoe, when Ruth was out of earshot, "I hate to say it, but how do we know we can trust Ruth at the moment? Given her… _connections_ to Oliver Mace."

"We can trust Ruth," said Harry.

"What connections?" asked Adam.

"They were all over each other at last years Christmas Party. Ask anyone. For all we know, she could be seeing him still," said Zoe.

"Ruth is not a mole," said Danny.

"Well, I'm sure she isn't, but perhaps it would be better to be cautious in such a delicate situation," Adam replied diplomatically.

"Enough!" Harry boomed, slamming his good fist down on the table.

Three shocked faces turned to look at him.

"Now, let me say this unequivocally. We _can_ trust Ruth, end of story," said Harry.

"But how do you know that?" Zoe argued.

Harry clenched his teeth.

"I am well aware of the allegations certain members of staff have been making about Ms. Evershed over the last two months, and let me assure you, I have personally investigated these allegations and found Ruth to be perfectly innocent. Understood?"

They nodded. Zoe averted her gaze, but Adam's eyes glinted with curiosity. Harry felt himself being appraised.

"There will be no more gossip about the incident around this office. If you'll excuse me," Harry said evenly, mustering up as much strength as he could manage to rise out of his seat and meet Oliver Mace.

After their argument, in which the whole office gathered to watch, Harry instructed his staff to go home and get some sleep. He watched them leave from his office.

When he noticed Ruth had instead sat down at her desk and was typing busily into her computer, he rose up again and hobbled over to her.

"Ruth," he said, raising his eyebrows pointedly, "I thought I told you to go home?"

"I can't just go home knowing Tom's still out there alone. I have to do… something," Ruth replied frustratingly.

"I need you at your best tomorrow. This goes further than Tom, and you know it."

"Yes, I do know that. And I also know I need to talk to you about _that_, and you keep brushing me off-"

"Ruth. Not now," he said, willing her to understand that Mace probably had the place bugged. It wasn't a safe place to talk.

Ruth sighed crossly, but moved to stand. She shut down her computer and grabbed her handbag, making to leave, but not before sending Harry a furious glare.

Harry limped back to his office. He hoped she understood that he didn't mean to cut her out, they just _couldn't_ talk here. But they would. He waited a safe thirty minutes, then moved to follow her to her home.

* * *

_Thank you very much for all the reviews. I have loved reading them and they have helped me to stay enthusiastic about this project. _


	6. Chapter 6

Ruth wanted to be angry, but instead she was just worried.

Worried about what Harry wasn't telling her. And worried about the reason why he wasn't telling her.

It was the early hours of the morning when she finally arrived home. She felt like she had been up for days. First it was Tom's disappearance, and then Harry's shooting. And now whatever Oliver Mace had planned for them. One calamity after another.

"Hello, darling!" she announced theatrically as she sloughed off her coat and shoes at the doorway.

Fidget came slinking down the hallway, smooching her legs and meowing reproachfully.

"Yes, yes. I'm sorry I'm so late. I'm a terrible owner. You want your food now?"

Fidget meowed in affirmation and pattered back towards the kitchen.

After she had fed poor Fidget Ruth undressed and hopped into a warm shower. As the water beat heavily down on her Ruth tried to imagine it washing away all the dirt of the day. When she thought of the way Oliver Mace had spoken to her she wanted to scrub and scrub and scrub. He'd said nothing, at first, in front of the staff, but when he'd arrived in the middle of the night demanding to see Harry, Ruth had had to come up and greet him alone. That time, seeing as he'd got her alone, he'd managed to fit in some rather crude questions about her and Harry's supposed affair.

Ah, the affair. Which was of course completely imaginary.

Unfortunately, Mace apparently had her on tape admitting such an affair did exist.

It'd been at the hospital, he'd said. He'd managed to find out who had told Harry that Five was under investigation. Apparently he'd scanned the CCTV service and heard her admitting that not only she and Harry were lovers, but that she was also pregnant with his child.

So, there was that. And, just as Mace thought she was having an affair with Harry, the whole office seemed to think she was having an affair with Mace.

How ridiculous her personal life was. She'd have to let Harry know she'd won.

That thought made Ruth smile. Then she frowned as she remembered Harry had been avoiding her all day. Perhaps he'd never let her close enough to tell him, way he was acting.

Ruth turned off the shower and enveloped herself in a fluffy, white towel. She dressed for bed in a white singlet top and matching cotton shorts. Then she padded back downstairs to quickly heat up dinner.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Ruth's immediate thought was alarm. She wasn't exactly used to callers in the middle of the night. If she could only find her handbag, she would grab the pepper spray… The doorbell rang again.

She crept down the hallway, and opened the door just a crack. It was Harry, starring up forlornly at her.

"We need to talk," he said awkwardly.

"Harry. Of course, come in," Ruth stuttered, opening the door fully.

"I'm sorry we couldn't sooner, I-" Harry paused, taking her in, "What are you wearing?"

Ruth looked down, not realising she had answered the door to Harry in her pyjamas. Very brief pyjamas, at that.

"Well, it is the early hours of the morning," Ruth attempted to brush past the embarrassment. "What did you expect? Me to be dressed for work?"

"No, I suppose not," Harry said, looking rather shell-shocked.

Ruth crossed her arms across her chest self-consciously.

"Look, I don't care what your dressed like," Harry scowled, her defensive pose putting him on the defensive, "Only I've just been shot at, and I'm rather dead on my feet. Would you let me in?"

"God, of course," hurried Ruth, ignoring his harsh words, "Why don't you sit down in the kitchen? Second door on the right. You must be in agony."

"Ah, well. I'm alright, considering."

"Considering you've had to check yourself out of hospital about a week too early to come to our rescue? Yes, I'm sure you're alright."

"As you say," Harry conceded, "Which is what we need to talk about."

Ruth followed Harry into her kitchen. It was pleasingly set out, he noticed. Warm, homely, and very Ruth. Harry took a seat at the table in the centre of the kitchen.

"Oh, Harry," Ruth sighed, noticing now the sweat on his brow, "You do look awful."

"Oof, Ruth," Harry joked, "You sure know how to flatter a man."

"When was the last time you've eaten? Before you were discharged from hospital?"

"I had one of Adam's sandwiches earlier."

"Oh, Harry, that's not enough. Let me make you something. I was just about to reheat some Carbonara for my own dinner. Will you have some?"

"As long as it's no trouble."

"Not at all. I _was_ just about to reheat it when you rang, really."

Harry watched Ruth move around the kitchen while he attempted to regain his breathe. His shoulder was becoming increasingly agonising. But Ruth was proving an adequate distraction. With her back to him, he was free to look unobstructed. Her state of undress was something to behold. He admired her bare shoulders and slim arms. Her white shorts were very brief, showing off soft, pale thighs. And her bottom was fleshy and firmly rounded.

She had a hell of a figure. When he'd first met her, he hadn't noticed it, hidden by her long skirts and blouses as it was. Nowadays, he can't stop looking, whether work clothes hide it or not. He's spent an inordinate amount of time on the grid trying to ascertain her shape through shapeless clothes. And he's not a man who is used to obsessing over a woman _before _he's even slept with her. It's silly. Sometimes Harry wonders if it isn't a mid-life crisis, this silly obsession with one woman young enough to be his daughter.

When Ruth reached up on her tippy-toes to get something out of a top cupboard, Harry watched the hem of her singlet rise up. He could see the indent of her back… the sweet swell of her naked hips….

Ruth turned around. If he'd have been a bit less befuddled by pain, he might have been a bit quicker to stop his gaping at her. As it was, he couldn't help but realise he was staring at her chest and she obviously wasn't wearing a bra. Her nipples were hard and straining through her shirt. Begging him to touch them. Hells bells.

"Harry?" Ruth asked, unwilling to believe he'd been openly gazing at her. Perhaps the pain was making his thoughts a bit muddled.

Harry cleared his throat.

"I need to apologise for earlier. I knew we needed to talk; I just couldn't risk it in the office. Mace no doubt has had the place bugged in my absence. And who knows what else he did, running around unattended."

"He wasn't completely unattended. I was there, you know. I tried to keep an eye on him. I didn't see him bug the room. But you're right, I couldn't stop anything," Ruth shrugged sadly, adding "Again."

Harry frowned sympathetically.

"But we do need to talk. I promise, if he hadn't had the place bugged…"

"I must admit, I was worried when you wouldn't talk to me. I was… I wondered if it was because of the gossip a-about-"

"Ruth, no. Never," Harry stopped her decisively.

"I know. I was just being stupid. But I want you to know… even ignoring how Mace treated me that day… I would never, ever have an affair with a married man. Not for a promotion, not for anything. I wouldn't do that," Ruth said earnestly.

"I have to admit… I did hear some of the others talking today. I understand now why you were worried about that."

"Well, I'm sure whatever they said in front of you wasn't nearly as bad as what they said to me today. It was awful. Someone practically accused me of firing them myself," Ruth smiled bravely.

"I shouldn't be surprised, really," Harry murmured thoughtfully, "A long time ago, I was sleeping with my commanding officer. Juliet, was her name. She always used to tease that the gossip about us ruined her career. I never really paid much attention to her. Because I certainly never heard any of it."

"You would be surprised," Ruth demurred playfully, "I have heard gossip about you, you know. Though more of the congratulatory kind… I believe the most impressive story was about you being caught with _two _Junior Analysts in the _records office _by your then _Section Chief?_"

"Ah," said Harry, embarrassed. Ruth smiled as his sickly pallor was replaced with a pink flush across his cheeks.

Ruth turned to remove the pasta from the pot and start serving it out. Harry was glad for the break from her scrutiny. He couldn't believe Ruth had heard that story. He didn't think someone like her would approve. But at least she hadn't been told about his marriage. Harry had taken care not to mention that his 'relationship' with Juliet was during his marriage to Jane.

For the third time, Ruth had stressed that she would never have an affair; as ifshe was worried _he _was judging _her. _No, Ruth with her sure moral compass would never forgive him. Weak though it was, Harry wanted her to continue respecting him. Craved her respect rather unhealthily, really.

Ruth leaned across the table, placing a plate of delectable looking pasta in front of Harry, before taking a seat next to him.

"Thank you, Ruth," Harry said smoothly.

The pasta was delicious. Harry hummed in appreciation which made Ruth smile shyly at him. Harry could not help but think of Tasha's promised Christmas Dinner.

"Harry," Ruth said, as they ate, "Speaking of rumours… I have to tell you, I think I've rather messed up. Do you know how I managed to get you that message, in the hospital?"

"Yes, I did wonder why I was received Morse code communiqués instead of the customary flowers," joked Harry.

Ruth frowned.

"Well, you see, they wouldn't let me speak to you. There were guards over your door, Mace's men, and they wouldn't let anyone in. So, I had to bribe a nurse, and…"

"And?" Harry prompted.

"And… I told her… I had to… Well, look, I ended up telling her we were l-lovers."

"Oh," grunted Harry, voice thick, "Well… that's good,"

Ruth squeaked.

"Good work," Harry tried to continue more professionally, clearing his throat, "You chose a good gambit. For someone who isn't a field officer, you did a fine job."

"That's not it, Harry. I didn't tell you this so you could…" Ruth sighed. "Mace saw the CCTV footage. When he came to Thames House this night, before you saw him, he told me he had seen the footage of me bribing the nurse… I suppose he was suspicious as to how we managed to get word to you past his guards. But he thinks it's _true_, Harry. He thinks we're lovers. He think's he's… got one over us."

"Ah," Harry considered, "Well. I suppose it makes our blackmail situation a little more tenuous, from his perspective, if he supposedly has something on us too. However, as much as it is _technically_ forbidden for a senior officer to sleep with a more junior one, I'd hardly be the first to do it. The tape still remains in play."

Harry and Ruth paused, both made uncomfortably hot by the idea of the conversation.

"There's one more thing," said Ruth finally, "The… that wasn't quite enough for the nurse… so I said I was having your child, too. "

"Oh," grunted Harry heavily, lost in the imagery of Ruth swollen with a child he had put there.

Then he realised this meant Mace also thought he had knocked her up.

"Alright, well, that is… Look, I don't believe this has to go badly. Mace thinks I've knocked you up; I haven't. We're one step ahead, then. You know, this could play out well for us. If Mace thinks he has us neutralised with this_, _then perhaps we can take him unawares. Ruth, I need to tell you why I came here tonight."

"Right," said Ruth seriously.

"We need to talk about what Mace is planning. I believe it is more than revenge, though I'm sure a certain amount of personal… _satisfaction_ plays part in this. But Mace seems to be part of a wider conspiracy. He's working for someone. And, Ruth… Tom's alive."

"Tom's alive?" Ruth gasped.

"Yes," said Harry pensively.

"Thank God."

"I don't know about that."

"Harry…" Ruth began.

"It's only good news if Tom's telling the truth. If he really was set up. But I just can't tell anymore."

"Mmm," agreed Ruth.

Harry took another bite of pasta.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"I think," Ruth considered thoughtfully, "If you asked me three months ago if Tom would have done this, then I would have told you no, of course not. Now, Tom has definitely been having… difficulties lately. But I just can't believe the man I knew, that I respected, would be able to kill an innocent man in cold blood like that. Tom is not a mercenary."

"Not even for love?"

"I don't know… I mean, if it was a matter of life or death for him and Christine Dale, then perhaps, but Harry, I just don't think that it was. I mean, she works for the CIA, not the KGB! Surely they could disappear together without this."

"They needed money," Harry offered, continuing to play Devil's Advocate.

"Then that's something entirely different than love, isn't it?" Ruth said passionately. "Tom and Christine are smart people… they could find another way to get the money they needed to elope."

"I only hope," said Harry admiringly.

Harry spooned up another mouthful of Ruth's pasta.

"They're planning on dismantling the service as we know it, with Tom's betrayal as the excuse," Harry said quietly, "They want to recreate a 'unified' state service. 5, 6, GCHQ run from the Cabinet Office."

Ruth nodded, deep in thought.

"We have to stop them," she said.

Ruth looked into his eyes seriously, letting him know she was thankful for trusting her enough to let her in to this secret.

"Ruth, this pasta is delicious," Harry said lightly to break the tension.

"Oh, thankyou," she smiled bashfully. "But it's nothing. Just reheated."

"Nonsense. It's been a long time since I've been spoiled like this. I'm rather enjoying the attention."

"Well, I didn't want you dropping dead on your feet."

Harry shook his head at her. She ought to know he wouldn't let her get away with the modesty.

It's been so long since a partner has looked after him. Not since his wife had any woman cooked for him, and they've been divorced for twenty-odd years. The only other woman he'd ever loved were Juliet and Elena; those relationships were about danger and intrigue, and consequently they had never endured this kind of domestic scene. And after that, his affairs had been just casual, with no love between them. Of course, he had to remind himself, Ruth is not his lover.

"You enjoy cooking, don't you?" Harry asked.

"I love cooking," Ruth prattled, "Though I'm usually too busy with these hours we work. I usually cook ahead on the weekend and then I always have something in the fridge for days like this. Of course, it's always nicer to cook for two."

"As yes," said Harry, cheekily reaching out to pat her imaginary bump, "Well, soon you will be cooking for two, won't you. You and my son."

"Harry!" Ruth shrieked delightfully, "How would you even know he's a son? We could be having a daughter."

"I have a feeling," Harry flirted back.

Ruth couldn't help but grin widely at him and break into giggles. Harry chuckled too at Ruth's obvious enthusiasm. It was the same enthusiasm with which she approached work at Thames House, and he absolutely loved it about her.

Removing his arm from her belly, Harry groaned.

"What's wrong?" asked Ruth.

"Ah, Christ…" said Harry, cupping his shoulder where it was aching. Blood came away. Harry stared at his hand.

"Oh my god, Harry!" cried Ruth.


End file.
